“Two years, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ma’am.”
“Yes, ma” he quickly shut his mouth.
“Do I make you nervous?” She toyed with the stake in her hand and glanced back at the Night Dweller.
“Yes.”
“Look, I might not kill you…”
His mouth gaped open.
Gareth’s head swung quickly her way. “Huh?”
Morgana smiled, still toying with the stake in her hand. “I’m sure Ragnorok has told you all about The Council and their rules?”
Gareth stood back, his hands up. “Oh, I see what you’re doing.”
Morgana smiled at him and winked. She usually didn’t toy with her targets. She was more of a wham-bam stake-in-the-heart kind of girl. But there was something fun about antagonizing the poor sod. The way he squirmed, his back pressed up against the dirty brick wall. Maybe Gareth was becoming a bad influence on her. And maybe she should put this gangly young vampire out of his misery. She turned back to him. “Did Ragnorok tell you about The Council?”
“Yes-s-s,” he stammered. “They are egotistical pigs who need to be taken down from their self-imposed pedestals and slaughtered just like they butcher us innocents.”
“Innocents?” Morgana laughed. “You must be kidding! The Forest Clan going around destroying half the town’s population or turning them. You guys aren’t acting very innocently.”
The vampire drew his shoulders back. “We’re just feeding. We have a right to feed.”
“Of course, you do. I never said you didn’t.”
“But—”
Morgana held up a hand. “No, my problem is how you’re feeding.” She stepped closer, her eyes darkening and baring her teeth. “Taking humans to feed is a big no-no.”
The vampire backed up against the wall. “You can’t kill me, you said it yourself. Unless The Council decides.”
Morgana feigned astonishment. “Did I say that? I guess I did, didn’t I?”
She looked at Gareth who nodded in agreement, a twinkle in his eyes. “You did say that, my love.”
She turned back to the vampire, her eyes wide and menacing. “But guess what? The Council decided.”
The vampire gulped.
Gareth chuckled. “You’re scaring him so much that if he could piss himself, he would.”
Morgana bit her lip from smiling, that would ruin the intimidating look she was going for. “And guess what they decided?”
The vampire shook his head, looking around wildly.
“Eradicate,” she said, plunging the stake into his heart.
Chapter Eleven
After the others had left, Alastor turned to Vivienne with a wide grin on his face. They were finally going to be taking down the elusive Forest Clan. “Where to first, Mrs. V?”
Vivienne smiled. “We’ll head out toward the edges of town where there’s been the most Forest Clan activity.”
“Aye, lead the way, boss.” He followed her up the basement stairs and even held the front door open for her.
He cast a glance around them as they exited the house. Alastor still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. And the others were long gone, so it couldn’t have been either of them. He shrugged it off as they trekked to the edge of the forest.
As neither of them were able to wear wolfsbane, they shimmied up different tree trunks, concealing themselves amongst the foliage waiting for a Forest Clan vampire to come along. After what seemed like an eternity, they felt vampires approaching. Voices drifted over to them before they were able to get a visual. Alastor peered through the leaves spotting a group of three entering the forest.
“I don’t see why we have to be the ones to do it,” grumbled a curvy brunette, her brown eyes deepened into a scowl, emphasizing her long nose.
Another female spoke, who strangely wore large, blue, square-frame glasses—must have been a cover—her chestnut and blonde streaked hair was piled into a messy bun atop her head. “That’s just the way the hierarchy works. We, as the lowly vampires, do these menial tasks while the ‘big wigs’ take care of the most important jobs. But one day we’ll be the ‘big wigs’ running our own clans. Until then, we put up with it.”
The buxom brunette grunted.
“Why is that lass wearing glasses?” Alastor muttered low, so only Vivienne would be able to hear.
“Maybe Ragnorok is recruiting what the humans refer to as hipsters?”
“Feckin’ strange if ye ask me.”
Vivienne’s lips twitched. “We live in a new-age world of human-turned-vampires. May as well get with the times.”
Alastor bit his lip to stop himself from bursting into laughter.
Their companion, a male who looked like he’d been turned in his thirties, flung out his arms, halting the two women. “Quiet, you two. Can you not feel that? We’re not alone.”
“Whatever. We can take them.” The brunette flicked her long hair back over her shoulder.
The hipster looked around. “Yeah, I mean the Russian hasn’t been drilling us for nothing.”
Alastor and Vivienne grinned at one another. That was their cue. Vivienne stood and tiptoed along the length of the tree bough before diving off the end, tucking into a somersault, and landing on the ground in front of them, making the two females squeal and clutch the male.
Alastor’s mouth gaped open. Wow. His landing was more of a clunky thud as he landed in the dirt, kicking up the dried leaves and littering the forest floor.
They must have looked like a formidable sight. The two female vampires screamed before turning and running. The male sighed and turned, chasing after them.
Alastor and Vivienne took off after them.
Alastor was on the heels of the male, his arm outstretched. He caught the collar of the male, jerking him back, his arms flailing. Alastor reached for his stake. This was going to be an easy kill.
As Alastor’s hand gripped the weapon, the vampire jammed his foot down onto Alastor’s making him release the shirt. The vampire twisted around, his fists flying toward Alastor’s nose. Alastor turned his body slightly, avoiding the attack and making the vampire stumble forward, his fist hitting the air.
Alastor whipped out the stake. The vampire quickly corrected his footing and turned back toward him, both of his arms jabbing and punching. Alastor blocked all the attacks. Whoever was training them to fight was good. But he’d had better teachers, and it wasn’t long before Alastor’s uppercut into the vampire’s jaw sent him flying backward landing flat on the ground.
The vampire tried to scramble to his feet, but Alastor stood over him, grinding the vampire’s head into the loose earth. “Feckin’ bastards.” He flipped the stake around as he held the vampire down, plunging the wood into his chest.
Alastor looked up, sensing the hipster nearby. He lit the end of the stake and ran in her direction.
She shrieked when he rounded the tree, stepping out in front of her. Her eyes were wide and darting all around her. What was with all the screaming?
Alastor didn’t much like the idea of fighting a lass, but she was Forest Clan, and the orders were given to eradicate them. He withdrew a stake, wanting to be done with it. Only hipster vampire had other ideas and ran off again.
“Jaysus Christ,” he muttered, giving chase again.
He followed her path, running in an arc, rounding the tree to cut in front of her again, making her jump. Alastor cocked his head. She was newly-turned perhaps and not used to the speed of older vampires?
Once again, she changed direction, scampering off.
Alastor sighed, following her.
When he reached her again, tired of her silly games, Alastor swung his arm out to stop her as she ran past. He had aimed too high, catching her in the face instead, shattering the blue frames, grinding glass into her skin and eyes. Her cries rang through the air. Even he grimaced at the sight of the embedded plastic and glass in her eyes. He took pity on her as she screamed in agony, clawing at her fa
ce, trying to remove the shards. He pulled a stake out, lighting the end before plunging it into her chest. Her body spasmed then slumped forward. He stepped back as her body was engulfed in flames.
He turned to see Vivienne had caught the last one, the buxom brunette by her long hair and was dragging her back. She pulled the vampire upright. The vampire hissed in pain as she twisted her neck around. Her eyes were wide as Vivienne smiled at her then sank her stake through the vampire’s back ribs.
Alastor grinned. Feckin’ hell. Mrs. V was a badass.
Chapter Twelve
Svetlana’s search had been fruitless. There was no one in this wretched town who was even close to being recruitable. And she was in dire need of sustenance. She wasn’t in the mood to head back to the town lair to endure Ragnorok’s taunts about returning empty-handed. Creeping around the edges of town, Svetlana spotted a young female with dark brown eyes that were almost black, her raven hair cut at her jawline, emphasizing the roundness of her face. She was rather plain looking, but she’d do.
Before the woman could make a sound, Svetlana plucked her right off the street, her hand clamped firmly around the woman’s mouth, stifling her cries. She dragged her back to the edges of the forest away from any prying human eyes.
With her hand still clamped over the meal’s mouth, Svetlana pressed her fangs into the exposed neck and pulled them back out, suckling at the essence seeping from the human.
Svetlana groaned, savoring the taste of the fresh blood. Ragnorok would probably want her to turn this one and bring her back as a recruit. But as she drained the body, the girl’s skin took on an ashen gray shade that stirred her core. The woman was dying, and that spurned her arousal even more. While technically she was awakened dead, nothing ignited her wanton desire like a dead body.
And eventually, when rigor mortis set in, much pleasure could be attained from stiff fingers.
Svetlana preferred females, but if she were ever lucky enough to come across a male who had died mid-coitus, well, that was a ride she thoroughly enjoyed.
As the female lay limp in her arms, her gaze fell upon the firm, plump breasts she should have sunk her teeth into. Maybe she still would. There was something alluring to her about the flavor of dead flesh.
Grasping the neckline of the girl’s cotton tee, Svetlana ripped the cloth from the body, exposing the naked flesh. Her tongue swirled around one nipple, but she was interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing behind her.
“It seems I have fallen victim to being a voyeur once again.”
Svetlana stiffened. She knew that voice. Raw hatred burned through her veins as she lifted her head to glare at the vampire standing tall and proud before her. His brown eyes stared into hers with mutual disdain. Oh, how she hated Oscar Van Wilden.
The entire reason she put up with the ramshackle of an army Ragnorok had assembled was so she could enact her revenge against Oscar for killing her brother. Gregovich had only been a vampire a short while before he’d been killed. Svetlana had still cared for him, even though he’d slaughtered hundreds as he fed.
“It’s the blood lust, sister. I can’t control it.” He would plead to her when he returned every morning, and she’d forgiven him.
She understood now the hunger a vampire experiences. Night Dwellers were meant to rule this world—be free to do what they must. Feed and kill, not hide away from the humans. The humans were their food, their source of life.
Ragnorok’s cause was just. Once they had killed The Council and freed their kind from the shackles of this self-imposed organization, they would be free to do as they willed.
Gregovich couldn’t help his new nature. That’s how vampires are. But Oscar had killed him for the humans’ deaths, for bringing attention upon himself, citing reasons unfathomable to her.
Ragnorok had also been there that night. He’d told her he was too late to save her brother. But he spoke of promises to help her get her vengeance if she let him turn her.
Oscar’s hands moving to the belt of stakes strapped around his waist brought Svetlana back to the present. She snarled, dropping the human to the ground and stood slowly.
If she were to fight the Primus, she was not going to be in a comprising position. She bared her teeth. Her only regret was they had not discovered the secret of killing the Primus from Oscar’s whoring spawn.
She lunged at the Primus, aiming to wrench one of the stakes from around his waist and stake him with it, giving her ample time to flee.
But the Primus was quick to block her attempt. Her hand whipped forward but was blocked again. She twisted to the side, trying to get at him from another angle, but he anticipated her moves, grabbing her wrists.
Svetlana grunted, tugging her arms to free herself from his grasp. She hated to admit the Primus was a skilled fighter—something she hadn’t considered when making her vengeance plans. But plans can always change. She just needed to be more cunning about her attacks.
Their arms flew back and forth as they attempted to block each other from reaching the stakes.
Svetlana grinned as her hand enclosed around the length of one of the wooden weapons. She flashed him a cocky grin before her hand shot out toward his chest.
The Primus grunted and looked down at the stake she’d plunged into his chest.
She smirked at finally achieving what she’d strived for all these years.
“That isn’t going to kill me.” He grasped the end of the stake and pulled it from his body.
She lifted her chin. “Vell, I still enjoyed doing it.”
Stepping forward, the Primus smiled at her. “I’m sure you did.” He flipped the stake around before a piercing pain spread from the front of her chest. Her body fell backward. The Primus caught her before she hit the ground. “But that’s how you kill a human-turned vampire.”
Svetlana’s eyes widened as the stake slid further through bone and sinew before touching her heart. Her eyes looked up toward the sky before descending into darkness.
At least now she would be reunited with her brother.
***
Ragnorok hated this room. He cast his eyes around the scruffy red velvet furniture. Whoever had owned this house had horrible taste, especially for a human. His first thought had been the furniture might hide the bloodstains that were likely to occur, but they’d only dried in large patches into a vulgar brown color. He didn’t really like to use this room. This was where Mariza had sat and listened to their plans, all the while planning on betraying them. But Svetlana insisted he needed a chamber room to address his clan members.
He looked up to see Nasir standing there waiting to report whatever drivel he had to say. Ragnorok waved his hand allowing him to speak.
Nasir bowed his head. Always so formal. “They’ve begun their assault on us, my Lord.”
Now that had his attention. He lifted his head sharply. This was much earlier than he had anticipated. It had taken them longer to make a move on the Obscure Clan.
“How many have we lost?” Ragnorok asked.
“Five and counting, my Lord.”
“Who have we lost?”
“The Irish and the blonde took out the trio heading into the woods. The halfling and her mate took out Wes in town.”
“What game are they playing taking us out one by one? That isn’t usually their style.” Ragnorok scrubbed his face before looking at the vampire again. “Why did Wes leave the compound?”
Nasir’s head dipped down. “Forgive me, my Lord, but the men are finding it boring to stay indoors all the time.”
“Well, tell them to fucking get used to it. They’re fucking Night Dwellers now!” He stood. “Where’s Svetlana?” She would knock some sense into them.
“Still on a recruiting mission.”
“Great, just fucking, great. Let me know the moment she returns!”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Ragnorok cursed under his breath. “And bring me someone to drink!”
Chapter Thirteen
O
scar returned home to find Ava sitting in the living room. Brutus’ head was in her lap as she stroked his black fur. “My dear, what are you doing here?”
“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I came back here waiting to see how it all went down.” Ava turned to look at him. “You know, for a bunch of paranoid vampires, you tend to leave the door unlocked a lot.”
Oscar smiled, walking toward his armchair. He looked at Brutus, who barely lifted his head, continuing to preen under Ava’s touch. “Yes, I suppose we rely on the uninvited barrier a little too much. But we never think about humans entering the premises.”
“Maybe you should.”
He felt the presence of the others returning to the house. Brutus jumped up and ran to the front door, barking madly. They all trudged inside.
“How many?” Oscar asked, standing to pour himself a whiskey.
“We got one,” Gareth replied.
“Aye, I staked two, and Mrs. V got one.”
“Dang, I’m gonna have to up my game.”
“Ye should have seen Mrs. V fight.” Alastor jerked his head in her direction. “She’s a tough mother.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen her take on Mariza—” Gareth’s voice trailed off, his eyes flickering toward Oscar. His lips thinned. There was an awkward silence before Morgana spoke.
“Well, it’s not a competition, boys.” Morgana placed her hands on her hips before smirking. “Because if it were, I’d beat both your asses.”
Oscar chuckled.
“Hang on!” Gareth exclaimed. “I thought we were on the same team?”
“We’re all on the same team,” Oscar said, silencing the room. “But if it’s a competition you want,” he smiled, "I’m afraid to tell you I have you all beat.”
Morgana crossed her arms over her chest. “How?”
Oscar raised his glass at her. “I killed Svetlana, dear daughter.”
“No way.”
“Way to go, Mr. V.” Gareth sounded impressed.
The Van Wilden Chronicles Box Set Books 1-3 Page 44
